As their nights last longer and the days grow shorter, Nozaki starts walking Chiyo to the train station; he lives in a relatively safe neighborhood, of course, but it's dark and she's a girl and no one is as good at applying beta as she is, and anyway he's always meant to try this once. In a way, this is always true - Chiyo is a collection of his firsts, perhaps mostly because she's the first girl his age to spend any time with him without inexplicably running for the hills.
"What do you think of running for the last train?" he asks her one evening, and she turns beet-red with the implication that she might get stuck behind and spend the night. She's already picturing herself in his pajama shirt before she realizes that he intends to leave now, a full half-hour ahead of time.
"What," Nozaki asks her mid-jog, head cocked, expression confused. "You wouldn't want to get trapped here, would you?" She turns a more purple undertone and starts trembling, which is unfortunate, because it gives Nozaki the opportunity to continue, "I mean, you could help with sketching, I suppose, but the beta is done, and Mikoshiba and Hori-sempai have already used my only spare toothbrushes..."
Chiyo loses her motivation entirely, and Nozaki's long legs are too much to catch up with. When she finally makes it to the station Nozaki is squatting near the entrance he knows she'll use, and he looks up at her and says with a dissatisfied expression,
"I don't think it has the same effect unless the weather is bad." He tilts his head and shifts his gaze back down to the notebook he seems to have pulled out of nowhere - did he jog all that way with that thing?! Did he take notes while running?! ARE THOSE SKETCHES?!! - and his eyes are hooded as he begins muttering to himself about when the next rainstorm is likely to be.
Chiyo shrugs to herself and walks through the gate, making a note with the beep of her train pass to monitor the weather from now on and to bring a raincoat the next time it looks like rain. She almost doesn't register Nozaki calling her name, but when she turns around he's leaned against the gate, eyes concerned.
"I hadn't thought about the difference in leg length, but Suzuki-kun definitely wouldn't leave Mamiko behind. Next time, if you're getting tired, let me know - I can give you a piggyback ride!"
She loves him so much. Too much. She can't even be angry when in the next issue of "Let's Fall In Love" Mamiko reveals she's been secretly practicing to join a marathon, and Suzuki-kun praises her for being able to keep up with him on long-distance runs.
They run for the train several more times after that, but Nozaki is never satisfied with the result; they're too early, or they don't feel rushed enough, or he starts to realize no one looks beautiful and filled with love and youthful when they've just run a kilometer uphill. He's bowled over by bicycles on two separate occasions, and she catches a cold from all the running in the rain she's been doing.
"You did your best, didn't you?" Hori consoles her in the hallways when she finishes explaining where her voice has gone to. "You really went all out in the hopes of wearing his pajama top." Nozaki apparently overhears them, because he comments with a sunny smile that he actually doesn't wear pajamas to bed, and Chiyo's immune system decides that it may just be a better idea to shut down entirely and to pray for the sweet release of death.
----
The deadline for a seventy-page "ghost stories" chapter is looming, and nearly every page has been haphazardly designated as "jet black" - for mood, Nozaki insists, although Hori points out there's no way any of the characters can even see each other in this lighting; Nozaki switches the featured characters to Ose and Waka, brings in the mistaken voice identity plot point, and pretends that this was his plan all along. At any rate, Chiyo's workload has tripled, and she's been working without breaks through the afternoon and into the evening. When Hori comes in, he asks carelessly,
"Hey, Sakura, isn't it pretty late? Are you okay on time?"
Both she and Nozaki look up at the clock, then at each other, in synch.
"Ah."
Chiyo grabs her bag; Nozaki is halfway out the door. They take the stairs; pattering down, then two at a time, then four. Nozaki's legs take nearly the whole flight in stride; Chiyo's legs pull up, then stick the landing, skirt fluttering like wings. They're embarrassed by their exertions when they run up to the station only to find it closed, and Chiyo laughs sheepishly at Nozaki, sweat matting her bangs upwards. He stares back at her, implacable.
"I guess I should call Yuzuki or someone, huh?" she sighs, reaching to rummage through her bag, but he offers,
"It's pretty late, and you haven't eaten yet, right? You might as well come back first - if you call your parents, I can make you dinner in the meantime." He shrugs, "Or you can stay over, I think sempai was planning on it."
Chiyo turns scarlet and chokes on her reply; Nozaki doesn't have the sense to reassure her that he won't do anything, or to offer her the bed, so instead he just reassures her that they can pick up a clean toothbrush from the convenience store.
When they return, Hori greets them as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Nozaki gets back to sketching - a new storyboard, she notes, so he must have finally gotten what he wanted out of his train-running experience - as she and Hori return to their tasks. Mikoshiba bangs on the door and joins them in an hour or so, and she's too busy consoling him that they weren't intentionally hanging out without him to spend much thought on how he found out they were all here or how he got here when he lives several stations away.
It's always gratifying to see the results of their hard work, but several weeks later when she opens her monthly girls' magazine and sees that the new chapter is about staying together too late and running for the last train, she mostly feels tired and sore. She's suffered too much for this setup. She mainly notices mistakes in the beta, or strange perspective problems Hori was too late to fix. It's only on her second read-through that she realizes the only difference between Mamiko and Suzuki's experience and her own is that at the end, in the final dash, Mamiko is about to make it - and Suzuki reaches out for her hand, to pull her back.
Chiyo isn't expecting Kashima to come barreling toward her, bordering on disheveled, two inches away from bowling them both over. It's only Yuzuki's arm reaching out and clotheslining Kashima, almost languidly, that stops her forward motion. Chiyo looks up at Yuzuki, who is staring half-interestedly at Kashima, and is about to thank her before she realizes first, that Kashima is in a lot of pain, and second, that Yuzuki appears to have been reaching instead to open a window.
"Chiyo-chan," Kashima sniffles, and Chiyo knows that whatever is going on, it has to do with Hori-sempai.
She and Yuzuki sit down with Kashima and extract the story in fits and starts. It had started, apparently, when they were talking about Chiyo. Kashima had noted, apparently, to Hori-sempai, that lately Chiyo had been somewhat listless. "I wanted Hori-sempai to think I was cool," Kashima sniffles, the tip of her nose turning rosy in a way that strangely doesn't detract from her overall attractiveness. "So I said what I thought - that maybe it was because you were in love," Chiyo can feel her blush tingling through the roots of her hair and down to her ends, which is strange, because she knows for a fact that isn't how hair works, "and if that was the case, it would be nice if it worked out, you know?"
"And then," Kashima's gulping breaths begin to take on a strange, manic quality, causing Yuzuki's expression to become increasibly interested, "do you know what he replied?"
Apparently, Hori had replied that Chiyo finding a boyfriend would be troublesome. That it would be a problem for Nozaki, but more notably a problem for him. Kashima had said he'd looked grumpy, even distracted. That his face said that Chiyo finding a boyfriend was something he had never considered, but that now that the possibility had been brought up he was at once deeply concerned about it.
"Chiyo-chan, how could you!" Kashima whines, but it's clear that there's no heart in it.. "Where did this bond even come from? Why are you such good friends! Is it something about your height? Because you're both so tiny and adorable? Because if so, I too --"
"Kashima-kun," Chiyo interrupts, sternly, "It's comments like that that'll get you hated."
Kashima is too exhausted to argue, and simply lays her head on the desk and whimpers until Chiyo relents, rubbing her back and telling her that she and Hori are just friends, that she only has eyes for one very tall and thin-eyed and deeply stupid boy, none of which are traits that fit Hori, that Kashima and Hori have a strange and special relationship that no one could get between even if they wanted to. She resolves never to let anyone know she's seen Hori with his bangs down. Yuzuki thumps Kashima on the back much too hard, causing her to cough and clutch her chest, and notes that even when she coughs she's kind of out of tune. As far as Yuzuki is concerned, this is probably being helpful.
The incident apparently sticks with Hori, as well, because the next time they are working together in Nozaki's apartment, Hori leans over and whispers, "Hey, I know that this is probably pretty frustrating for you, but you aren't going to get fed up and leave, are you?" Chiyo gives him a questioning look, and he continues, "Kashima--"
"Ah, she told me!" Chiyo stares down at the page she's working on. Suzuki-kun appears to be being kidnapped by thugs in this issue - she has difficulty believing Ken-san approved this storyline, and is already mentally preparing herself for major corrections. "I mean, I don't think that's very likely but... would it really be a problem? Me getting a boyfriend."
"Of course it would be a problem!" the warmth with which Hori replies surprises Chiyo, as does the way in which he grabs her shoulders, meeting her gaze directly. "Nozaki would never stop complaining about having to find someone else to do the beta, and you know I'm not that good one-on-one with Mami... koshiba."
"Ah." Chiyo smiles, places a comforting hand on Hori's arm. "Well, you don't have to worry about my getting tired of it - I know not to expect anything, you know?" Hori smiles softly back at her, warmth spreading fondly across his expression. Neither of them notice Nozaki standing in the kitchen, watching with a look somewhere between contemplation and discontent.
For the last several weeks they haven't been making any real progress, and it's the first time in a while that they're really pushing up on a deadline without a completed draft in hand. Nozaki, for his part, has been making a big show of his own suffering, which isn't unusual in and of itself, but when even Mikorin expresses concern to her, Chiyo knows that she has to do something.
"Nozaki-kun," she intones quietly, leaning over his shoulder to look at the empty pages in front of him, "could it be that you're hitting writer's block?" He turns and looks up at her (--his face is so close! Too close!!), sighs tiredly in a way that reminds her of Mayu, somehow. He nods, turning back to his work and rolling his shoulders back, stretching languidly.
"This doesn't usually happen to me, like I can usually come up with something, but --" he shrugs. "Nothing is coming to me."
Chiyo smiles, straightening in a way she hopes is natural. "Why don't you come and sit with us? You haven't touched your tea, and anyway, sometimes when I'm having trouble, I change location for a change of pace!" Nozaki looks back up at her, meets her smile easily and picks up his materials, joining her and Mikoshiba at the table.
"I suppose it's natural you're having trouble," Chiyo murmurs sympathetically as Nozaki heaves another long sigh into his tea. "I mean, you've just gotten through four chapters about holidays or major events of some kind, and Mamiko and Suzuki are on pretty even footing -- as someone who's rooting for them, it's a relief, but as an author, it must be a difficult period, huh?"
Mikoshiba nods understandingly. "Don't worry too much about it, Nozaki -- even I get kind of fatigued if I hit too many flags at once." Nozaki looks up, interested, and even Chiyo pays more attention.
"What do you do when that happens?"
Mikoshiba turns red, clearly embarrassed to be caught discussing gal games in front of Chiyo, but he continues, "I don't know... take a break for a while? If it's a game," (he says, as if his experience isn't entirely based on games and one ill-fated fake date with Seo) "I build my character's stats for a while? Have him study by himself, or play games, or something solitary that will lower his stress?" Nozaki nods vigorously.
"A chapter where Mamiko locks herself in her room for three weeks, only playing M*nHun --" when Chiyo glances over his shoulder, she can see a doodle of Suzuki standing over a disheveled Mamiko - the speech bubbles read, she notes with a disconcerted shudder, 'Mamiko, I'm so impressed that you felled the Hard Core Teostra in only twenty minutes!!' 'I leveled up in games and also in love!'
"I'm not sure that really counts as progression - or, anyway, did Mamiko play video games? I thought she was the outdoorsy type -- ah, Nozaki-kun, that isn't what I mean!" she clarifies, as Nozaki has begun doodling trees surrounding Mamiko's video game console.
"Sometimes after a long series of flags I'm just not feeling it anymore? Like, it's almost too much energy, so I put the whole thing to the side for a while? It can never hurt to just take a short break."
Chiyo sees Nozaki-kun move for his phone, reaches out and stops him, deadpanning, "You already know Ken-san is at the limit of his allowable extensions, so try not running away from reality."
"Ah, or sometimes I switch to another girl entirely for a while -- you know, if the scenario is different, the whole dating thing feels new again?"
This time Chiyo grabs Nozaki's arm right as he's about to start drawing, crying, "No! I don't want to read about such a despicable hero! That isn't the Suzuki-kun I want!! You're going to disappoint girls around the nation!"
It takes some time to convince Mikorin that she wasn't calling him a despicable hero; when they've all calmed down, Chiyo continues, "Anyway, there must be a way to continue without something like introducing new characters. Plenty of people stay in stable relationships! There must be an activity for Suzuki and Mamiko to do while maintaining their current status?" The silence that meets her is oppressive, as is the knowledge that ultimately, Mikorin, with his internet girlfriend and his rich two-dimensional love life, is actually the most romantically experienced person in the room.
The time comes for her to leave for the station without much having been accomplished, ultimately. Chiyo is gratified to see that even though it's much too early to have to run for it, Nozaki still joins her in the entrance way and begins putting on his shoes. She supposes the practice of walking her to the station wasn't entirely for material's sake. Mikorin shoots her a look from the next room that somehow manages to convey all of I really want to go with you but I don't want to take this from you so I'm going to let myself get left behind to watch the house but just remember I wouldn't do this for just anyone, so you owe me later!! in a single glance, but she can feel her phone buzz in her pocket and she knows he's sent her the same message in email form as well, just for safekeeping.
A few minutes into their walk, Chiyo reassures Nozaki, "I'm sorry we didn't end up getting much accomplished today, but I'm sure you'll overcome it soon!" He smiles faintly at her, then looks up at the sky above them.
"Yeah, it's just frustrating, you know? Sometimes I think, if I only had more life experiences, this kind of thing would be easier." Suddenly, he looks back at her, asking offhand, "What about you? You and Hori-senpai seemed close earlier--" his comment cuts off abruptly when Chiyo, horrified, spins to face him, stopping dead in her tracks, essentially colliding with him.
"It's nothing like that! I mean, I like Hori-senpai, but I don't li-- I have someone else that I like, so it isn't like that at all!!"
"Ah, you said something like that before, didn't you - some clueless guy who ignored your confession and doesn't notice your feelings, huh?" Nozaki clicks his tongue in an annoyed way which conversely makes Chiyo annoyed herself - have some self-awareness!! "Honestly, what's so good about that guy, anyway?" She shakes her head and shrugs, trying to remind herself of the answer to that question.
"So," Nozaki-kun continues, interested in a way he only ever is when he's collecting new material, "Have you managed to convey your feelings properly?" when she shakes her head, too simultaneously humiliated and infuriated to reply, he sighs, "And you're okay with that? With no progress?"
"I don't necessarily think it's about progress or no progress, you know?" She smiles up at him, ingratiated by his interest. "I'm having fun spending time with him like this! Sure, I'd like for things to move forward, you know? But, well." She waves her hands, trying to clarify as Nozaki's expression becomes more and more mystified. "It's like, ummmm, how do I put this-- Ah!! It's like in shoujo manga, isn't it!" She shoves her hands in her pockets, looking up toward the sky. "Progression is good, but anticipation makes smaller things seem more exciting and important, and anyway, sometimes in romance it's nice to wait and think about what might come, you know?"
For a second Nozaki looks baffled, but then he smiles and nods, says to no-one in particular, "Sometimes you say really good things." A second later, he adds, "Still," and looks down again at her, expression as implacable as ever, "I'm glad you aren't interested in Hori-senpai."
Her heart skips, and then she hears him add, quietly, "I guess when I think about you getting a boyfriend, it feels kind of weird, and I feel kind of irritated?" and her heart stops entirely.
Nozaki shrugs, continuing, "I don't know, it feels a bit like I'd be left behind." And then, frustratingly, "Ah -- we're here!"
Chiyo's too shaken to do anything but pass through the turnstiles. She collapses into a seat when she enters the train. She can't shake the feeling that the next scenario for "Let's Fall In Love" is going to center on Ryuunosuke, Mamiko's childhood friend and Suzuki's some-time low-level rival, but she stares blankly at the waving signs hanging above her, ignores her phone buzzing with messages from Mikorin. Sometimes, she thinks blankly, waiting is okay - the anticipation makes smaller things seem more exciting and important, and it's nice to think about what's to come.
The next evening, Nozaki confides that he's still having trouble coming up with something new.
"I talked to Ken-san about what you said yesterday, and he said that while it's certainly the case that drawn-up buildup makes smaller things seem more special, if there's never any payoff, after a certain point the readers will begin to feel unsatisfied." He turns to look at her, expression thoughtful. Their faces are close again - Chiyo thinks to herself that it's always surprising how long Nozaki-kun's eyelashes are. Expression unchanging, he continues, "To be honest, I've never had that much patience -- I can't tell you how many drafts I've turned in along the lines of 'and then we had some experiences that led to a new relationship milestone.'" He smiles thoughtfully, perhaps momentarily self-aware. "Though Ken-san has never accepted one of them."
Nozaki-kun is tall and handsome and manly-looking. That's the only thing that hasn't changed since the beginning. when they first met he seemed so distant and unattainable, strangely grown-up. Now it would be the easiest thing to close the distance between them, Chiyo thinks. The easiest and the hardest.
After a second he shrugs and moves to get up. "You're thirsty, right? I'll put on some tea."
She thinks, waiting is okay - the anticipation makes smaller things seem more exciting and important, and it's nice to think about what's to come. She thinks, if there's never any payoff, after a certain point the readers will begin to feel unsatisfied. She thinks, the easiest thing, and reaches out to grab his sleeve.
Even though he knows that no one would mind, and that no one could hear it over the rattling of the tracks and the occasional roaring of tunnel air and even the basic human noise that comes of a number of people squeezed in together, Kenma has always avoided texting in trains. There's something about it that makes him feel like it's eye-catching, even though he knows well enough that literally everyone else does it, and he stands out more by not - maybe it's the ever-present signs insisting on the use of manner mode, or maybe it's the glares everyone shoots the inevitable asshole who talks on his phone in spite of them, or maybe it's just the memory of how loud vibration sounds when it goes off during a test, or a movie, or when he's trying to go to sleep.
Anyway, it’s troublesome and it makes him worry, and as a general rule Kenma avoids both of those things - save, he supposes, Kuroo. It's been a non-issue up to this point because the only people who text him anyway are Kuroo and his mother and occasionally (always) Lev; it's rare for him to ride a train without Kuroo, his mother expects a slow response, and anyway it's better not to give Lev too much attention or he'll begin to raise his expectations. His other teammates know well enough that the fastest way to talk to him is in person, and they tend to keep their messages short and to the point and rarely expect them to turn into a conversation.
That's changed since he's started talking to Hinata. At first he thinks it's got nothing to do with him. That it's the speed and the volume and the energy and the tone of the texts. That something about Hinata can't be ignored. That he demands to be replied to.
Even though he’s the type of person who enjoys teasing his friends, Kuroo has a degree of emotional maturity that precludes picking at people’s legitimate sensitivities; he’ll smirk and he’ll tease but he’d never do anything to call attention to his friend in a way Kenma couldn’t stand. The difference, Kenma occasionally thinks with an eyeroll, between a pain and a bully, although he knows that’s a gross oversimplification, as well as probably unfair. At any rate, it’s probably because of that that his friend has traditionally been good about ignoring the buzz of a message coming from Kenma's bag, but lately the more that Kenma responds to the sound, fishes through his belongings and reads through the messages thoughtfully and sends replies promptly as if it's the most natural thing, the more he shifts away from embarrassment and awkwardness and toward the norm, Kuroo has readjusted as well. He’s taken to biting around a smile, tilting his gaze in a way Kenma knows he does specifically because he’s been told point-blank that it's obnoxious.
“That shorty from Karasuno has a lot to say for a Wednesday morning,” he drawls languidly one morning as Kenma’s phone begins vibrating almost immediately after he clicks the screen off from his last reply, before he can even manage to shove it back into his pocket. Kenma can hear his best friend’s grin even before he slips his gaze up impassively, shaking his hair back and out of his face.
“Shouyou’s talking about this standing race he and that first-year setter,” Kageyama-kun, he vaguely recalls, “have. Something about arriving in the gymnasium first.” He shrugs. Things like racing and competition seem like a lot of work to him, more work than he’d be interested in. He supposes, however, that Kageyama seems unexpectedly like that kind of type - even though at first glance he’d given off a kind of stoic, imperious aura, that hadn’t lasted past the first few interactions with the rest of Karasuno that Kenma’d observed. People like that, Kenma thinks, get too serious about things when other people attach weight to them, even things that probably don’t actually matter all that much. Kageyama is probably exactly the type to get caught up in someone like Hinata's pace.
“Ah, that genius, right? The one who serves it right to shorty.” Kuroo’s tone indicates a question, but his expression doesn’t change, settled stubbornly into a fond smile Kenma recognizes as one he makes when he figures he knows what’s really going on, but he’s not going to let on until you’re willing to tell him what’s up, because he’s such a kind person, really. “They’re racing, huh? What’s with that, is it some kind of weird training?” Kenma shrugs, turning up to fully meet his friend’s gaze.
“I don’t think it’s part of their menu or anything, and as far as I can tell there’s no benefit to winning. It’s just something they do.” With that, he slips his gaze back to his phone, finger dancing across the screen to compose his reply. “I guess Shouyou’s into it, though.”
Kuroo snorts. “I get the impression there isn’t much that doesn’t get that guy pumped up.”
Kenma knows by all accounts that he should sigh at that, really, because it’s all sort of pointless and silly, but somehow, inexplicably, he feels the corners of his mouth turning up ever-so slightly. “Even you can tell something like that, huh?” His friend laughs and shoves Kenma’s shoulder with his own, almost too gently, like you’d nudge a sleeping cat with your foot.
“What's with that 'even you,' huh? Some people don’t take your particular skillset to figure out, you know? I feel like anyone could tell that. When we introduce him to Lev, Lev’ll be able to tell that.” Kuroo yawns and rolls his shoulders back, settling further into his seat. “Speaking of our newest member, I could swear I heard him complaining about how unresponsive you are to texts - something you’re working on?” Kenma leans forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees, putting subtle distance between the two of them, feeling defensive.
“You know that type of guy. If you give him an inch he’ll take a mile. You let him play one round of a game, and next thing you know he’s saving over your files and telling you he’s a natural at it.” For example. Hypothetically. “Better not to let him think I'll respond too quickly." Or at all.
"You barely respond to me." Kenma shifts his shoulders, turning slightly to meet his best friend's teasing, expression neutral.
"Did you have something you needed right now?" This time Kuroo jostles his knee against Kenma's, less gentle than before.
"That's not the point and you know it." The borders of his sigh hint quietly at the laugh he's swallowed down. Kenma doesn’t have a reply, and Kuroo doesn’t particularly need one; they're comfortably quiet until almost the end of their ride to school. As always, ultimately it's Kuroo who breaks the silence, intoning, "Looking forward to their trip, then?" as Kenma's phone lights up again with another message. Kenma shrugs, staring at his still-uncomposed reply.
"I think he's excited? I mean, even when one of us brings it up, he mostly just talks about volleyball and the Skytree, to be honest..." His phone vibrates again in his hand, as if in agreement. Yeah, Hinata seems to be echoing from up in Miyagi prefecture. Tokyo Skytree is awesome, probably!!
"Not the shorty, Kenma." His friend's tone indicates that he thinks that for such a smart guy, Kenma can be surprisingly dense. The scenery outside melts into the neighborhood around Nekoma High, warning that their stop is next; they both stand automatically, without conferring, and Kuroo reaches up and grabs Kenma's bag from the rack above their heads, passes it quietly to him with a slight grin. Morning practice is early and they've missed the rush, so they're able to move to the train door without pushing. It opens, and Kenma feels the cool morning air on his face as Kuroo steps onto the platform, turning to face him. Kuro's not done with his thought, Kenma realizes suddenly, looking at the slant to his friend's expression, and wonders what more there is to say. "It's volleyball and it's that guy. Of course he's excited. I'm talking about you."
The sun is gentle on his face, surprising for summer in Tokyo. Kenma still feels warm at the question, which takes him off-guard in a way he isn’t used to. Is he excited? It seems impossible - he's rarely excited, which is why it's so puzzling to him that he can feel a faint heat spreading across his cheeks and the back of his neck at the question. He tries to conjure up the memory of what the most recent game release announcement he’d been excited about felt like, tries to root that feeling in this, but it's all wrong - nothing about the nervous, effervescent feeling of hearing new information about an upcoming release is echoed in the way talking about Karasuno coming to training camp settles deep into his belly, makes him smile at weird times.
Kuroo blinks blankly at him, apparently surprised to have taken him by surprise, and they stare at each other like idiots for a few seconds before he laughs out loud, jostling his shoulder affectionately against his friend’s.
“It’s fine if you haven’t figured it out yet, Kenma.”
Kenma bristles at the implication that he’s behind Kuroo on something, sliding smoothly away from the contact in a way that doesn’t outright reject it. “Would you cut that out? We’re going to be late if you keep messing around like that.”
“What, are you feeling fired up about practice this morning? That shorty get you all pumped?” Kuroo anticipates Kenma’s dodge and moves fluidly in time with it, reaching up to tousle his friend’s hair.
“Not particularly.” Kenma knows Kuroo well enough in turn to anticipate that, and lightly slaps his hand away.
“You want to race?”
“Stop being stupid.”
Kenma hopes that Kuroo will think the slight flush still painting his cheeks is from horsing around. His phone buzzes in his pocket again, and as they turn to begin their walk to practice, Kenma pulls it out to finally humor Hinata with a reply. He’s surprised to catch himself smiling before he even opens the message, a moment of horrible self-realization which instantly sinks his stomach with how stupid he feels about it. Still, the moment passes as quickly as it arrived, and he sends off a reply as he walks, listening to Kuro humming a popular video game jingle from a few paces ahead.
Even though he knows that no one would mind, and that no one could hear it over the rattling of the tracks and the occasional roaring of tunnel air and even the basic human noise that comes of a number of people squeezed in together, Kenma has always avoided texting in trains. There's something about it that makes him feel like it's eye-catching, even though he knows well enough that literally everyone else does it, and he stands out more by not - maybe it's the ever-present signs insisting on the use of manner mode, or maybe it's the glares everyone shoots the inevitable asshole who talks on his phone in spite of them, or maybe it's just the memory of how loud vibration sounds when it goes off during a test, or a movie, or when he's trying to go to sleep.
Anyway, it’s troublesome and it makes him worry, and as a general rule Kenma avoids both of those things - save, he supposes, Kuro. It's been a non-issue up to this point because the only people who text him anyway are Kuro and his mother and occasionally (always) Lev; it's rare for him to ride a train without Kuro, his mother expects a slow response, and anyway it's better not to give Lev too much attention or he'll begin to raise his expectations. His other teammates know well enough that the fastest way to talk to him is in person, and they tend to keep their messages short and to the point and rarely expect them to turn into a conversation.
That's changed since he's started talking to Shouyou. At first he thinks it's got nothing to do with him. That it's the speed and the volume and the energy and the tone of the texts. That something about Shouyou can't be ignored. That he demands to be replied to.
Even though he’s the type of person who enjoys teasing his friends, Kuro has a degree of emotional maturity that precludes picking at people’s legitimate sensitivities; he’ll smirk and he’ll tease but he’d never do anything to call attention to his friend in a way Kenma couldn’t stand. The difference, Kenma occasionally thinks with an eyeroll, between a pain and a bully, although he knows that’s a gross oversimplification, as well as probably unfair. At any rate, it’s probably because of that that his friend has traditionally been good about ignoring the buzz of a message coming from Kenma's bag, but lately the more that Kenma responds to the sound, fishes through his belongings and reads through the messages thoughtfully and sends replies promptly as if it's the most natural thing, the more he shifts away from embarrassment and awkwardness and toward the norm, Kuro has readjusted as well. He’s taken to biting around a smile, tilting his gaze in a way Kenma knows he does specifically because he’s been told point-blank that it's obnoxious.
“That shorty from Karasuno has a lot to say for a Wednesday morning,” he drawls languidly one morning as Kenma’s phone begins vibrating almost immediately after he clicks the screen off from his last reply, before he can even manage to shove it back into his pocket. Kenma can hear his best friend’s grin even before he slips his gaze up impassively, shaking his hair back and out of his face.
“Shouyou’s talking about this standing race he and that first-year setter,” Kageyama-kun, he vaguely recalls, “have. Something about arriving in the gymnasium first.” He shrugs. Things like racing and competition seem like a lot of work to him, more work than he’d be interested in. He supposes, however, that Kageyama-kun seems unexpectedly like that kind of type - even though at first glance he’d given off a kind of stoic, imperious aura, that hadn’t lasted past the first few interactions with the rest of Karasuno that Kenma’d observed. People like that, Kenma thinks, get too serious about things when other people attach weight to them, even things that probably don’t actually matter all that much. Kageyama-kun is probably exactly the type to get caught up in someone like Shouyou’s pace.
“Ah, that genius, right? The one who serves it right to shorty.” Kuro’s tone indicates a question, but his expression doesn’t change, settled stubbornly into a fond smile Kenma recognizes as one he makes when he figures he knows what’s really going on, but he’s not going to let on until you’re willing to tell him what’s up, because he’s such a kind person, really. “They’re racing, huh? What’s with that, is it some kind of weird training?” Kenma shrugs, turning up to fully meet his friend’s gaze.
“I don’t think it’s part of their menu or anything, and as far as I can tell there’s no benefit to winning. It’s just something they do.” With that, he slips his gaze back to his phone, finger dancing across the screen to compose his reply. “I guess Shouyou’s into it, though.”
Kuro snorts. “I get the impression there isn’t much that doesn’t get that guy pumped up.”
Kenma knows by all accounts that he should sigh at that, really, because it’s all sort of pointless and silly, but somehow, inexplicably, he feels the corners of his mouth turning up ever-so slightly. “Even you can tell something like that, huh?” His friend laughs and shoves Kenma’s shoulder with his own, almost too gently, like you’d nudge a sleeping cat with your foot.
“What's with that 'even you,' huh? Some people don’t take your particular skillset to figure out, you know? I feel like anyone could tell that. When we introduce him to Lev, Lev’ll be able to tell that.” Kuro yawns and rolls his shoulders back, settling further into his seat. “Speaking of our newest member, I could swear I heard him complaining about how unresponsive you are to texts - something you’re working on?” Kenma leans forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees, putting subtle distance between the two of them, feeling defensive.
“You know that type of guy. If you give him an inch he’ll take a mile. You let him play one round of a game, and next thing you know he’s saving over your files and telling you he’s a natural at it.” For example. Hypothetically. “Better not to let him think I'll respond too quickly." Or at all.
"You barely respond to me." Kenma shifts his shoulders, turning slightly to meet his best friend's teasing, expression neutral.
"Did you have something you needed right now?" This time Kuro jostles his knee against Kenma's, less gentle than before.
"That's not the point and you know it." The borders of his sigh hint quietly at the laugh he's swallowed down. Kenma doesn’t have a reply, and Kuro doesn’t particularly need one; they're comfortably quiet until almost the end of their ride to school. As always, ultimately it's Kuro who breaks the silence, intoning, "Looking forward to their trip, then?" as Kenma's phone lights up again with another message. Kenma shrugs, staring at his still-uncomposed reply.
"I think he's excited? I mean, even when one of us brings it up, he mostly just talks about volleyball and the Skytree, to be honest..." His phone vibrates again in his hand, as if in agreement. Yeah, Shouyou seems to be echoing from up in Miyagi prefecture. Tokyo Skytree is awesome, probably!!
"Not the shorty, Kenma." His friend's tone indicates that he thinks that for such a smart guy, Kenma can be surprisingly dense. The scenery outside melts into the neighborhood around Nekoma High, warning that their stop is next; they both stand automatically, without conferring, and Kuroo reaches up and grabs Kenma's bag from the rack above their heads, passes it quietly to him with a slight grin. Morning practice is early and they've missed the rush, so they're able to move to the train door without pushing. It opens, and Kenma feels the cool morning air on his face as Kuro steps onto the platform, turning to face him. Kuro's not done with his thought, Kenma realizes suddenly, looking at the slant to his friend's expression, and wonders what more there is to say. "It's volleyball and it's that guy. Of course he's excited. I'm talking about you."
The sun is gentle on his face, surprising for summer in Tokyo. Kenma still feels warm at the question, which takes him off-guard in a way he isn’t used to. Is he excited? It seems impossible - he's rarely excited, which is why it's so puzzling to him that he can feel a faint heat spreading across his cheeks and the back of his neck at the question. He tries to conjure up the memory of what the most recent game release announcement he’d been excited about felt like, tries to root that feeling in this, but it's all wrong - nothing about the nervous, effervescent feeling of hearing new information about an upcoming release is echoed in the way talking about Karasuno coming to training camp settles deep into his belly, makes him smile at weird times.
Kuro blinks blankly at him, apparently surprised to have taken him by surprise, and they stare at each other like idiots for a few seconds before he laughs out loud, jostling his shoulder affectionately against his friend’s.
“It’s fine if you haven’t figured it out yet, Kenma.”
Kenma bristles at the implication that he’s behind Kuro on something, sliding smoothly away from the contact in a way that doesn’t outright reject it. “Would you cut that out? We’re going to be late if you keep messing around like that.”
“What, are you feeling fired up about practice this morning? That shorty get you all pumped?” Kuro anticipates Kenma’s dodge and moves fluidly in time with it, reaching up to tousle his friend’s hair.
“Not particularly.” Kenma knows Kuro well enough in turn to anticipate that, and lightly slaps his hand away.
“You want to race?”
“Stop being stupid.”
Kenma hopes that Kuro will think the slight flush still painting his cheeks is from horsing around. His phone buzzes in his pocket again, and as they turn to begin their walk to practice, Kenma pulls it out to finally humor Shouyou with a reply. He’s surprised to catch himself smiling before he even opens the message, a moment of horrible self-realization which instantly sinks his stomach with how stupid he feels about it. Still, the moment passes as quickly as it arrived, and he sends off a reply as he walks, listening to Kuro humming a popular video game jingle from a few paces ahead.
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warfare2015-03-30 08:58 pm
3.30.2015
"What do you think of running for the last train?" he asks her one evening, and she turns beet-red with the implication that she might get stuck behind and spend the night. She's already picturing herself in his pajama shirt before she realizes that he intends to leave now, a full half-hour ahead of time.
"What," Nozaki asks her mid-jog, head cocked, expression confused. "You wouldn't want to get trapped here, would you?" She turns a more purple undertone and starts trembling, which is unfortunate, because it gives Nozaki the opportunity to continue, "I mean, you could help with sketching, I suppose, but the beta is done, and Mikoshiba and Hori-sempai have already used my only spare toothbrushes..."
Chiyo loses her motivation entirely, and Nozaki's long legs are too much to catch up with. When she finally makes it to the station Nozaki is squatting near the entrance he knows she'll use, and he looks up at her and says with a dissatisfied expression,
"I don't think it has the same effect unless the weather is bad." He tilts his head and shifts his gaze back down to the notebook he seems to have pulled out of nowhere - did he jog all that way with that thing?! Did he take notes while running?! ARE THOSE SKETCHES?!! - and his eyes are hooded as he begins muttering to himself about when the next rainstorm is likely to be.
Chiyo shrugs to herself and walks through the gate, making a note with the beep of her train pass to monitor the weather from now on and to bring a raincoat the next time it looks like rain. She almost doesn't register Nozaki calling her name, but when she turns around he's leaned against the gate, eyes concerned.
"I hadn't thought about the difference in leg length, but Suzuki-kun definitely wouldn't leave Mamiko behind. Next time, if you're getting tired, let me know - I can give you a piggyback ride!"
She loves him so much. Too much. She can't even be angry when in the next issue of "Let's Fall In Love" Mamiko reveals she's been secretly practicing to join a marathon, and Suzuki-kun praises her for being able to keep up with him on long-distance runs.
3.31.2015
"You did your best, didn't you?" Hori consoles her in the hallways when she finishes explaining where her voice has gone to. "You really went all out in the hopes of wearing his pajama top." Nozaki apparently overhears them, because he comments with a sunny smile that he actually doesn't wear pajamas to bed, and Chiyo's immune system decides that it may just be a better idea to shut down entirely and to pray for the sweet release of death.
----
The deadline for a seventy-page "ghost stories" chapter is looming, and nearly every page has been haphazardly designated as "jet black" - for mood, Nozaki insists, although Hori points out there's no way any of the characters can even see each other in this lighting; Nozaki switches the featured characters to Ose and Waka, brings in the mistaken voice identity plot point, and pretends that this was his plan all along. At any rate, Chiyo's workload has tripled, and she's been working without breaks through the afternoon and into the evening. When Hori comes in, he asks carelessly,
"Hey, Sakura, isn't it pretty late? Are you okay on time?"
Both she and Nozaki look up at the clock, then at each other, in synch.
"Ah."
Chiyo grabs her bag; Nozaki is halfway out the door. They take the stairs; pattering down, then two at a time, then four. Nozaki's legs take nearly the whole flight in stride; Chiyo's legs pull up, then stick the landing, skirt fluttering like wings. They're embarrassed by their exertions when they run up to the station only to find it closed, and Chiyo laughs sheepishly at Nozaki, sweat matting her bangs upwards. He stares back at her, implacable.
"I guess I should call Yuzuki or someone, huh?" she sighs, reaching to rummage through her bag, but he offers,
"It's pretty late, and you haven't eaten yet, right? You might as well come back first - if you call your parents, I can make you dinner in the meantime." He shrugs, "Or you can stay over, I think sempai was planning on it."
Chiyo turns scarlet and chokes on her reply; Nozaki doesn't have the sense to reassure her that he won't do anything, or to offer her the bed, so instead he just reassures her that they can pick up a clean toothbrush from the convenience store.
When they return, Hori greets them as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Nozaki gets back to sketching - a new storyboard, she notes, so he must have finally gotten what he wanted out of his train-running experience - as she and Hori return to their tasks. Mikoshiba bangs on the door and joins them in an hour or so, and she's too busy consoling him that they weren't intentionally hanging out without him to spend much thought on how he found out they were all here or how he got here when he lives several stations away.
It's always gratifying to see the results of their hard work, but several weeks later when she opens her monthly girls' magazine and sees that the new chapter is about staying together too late and running for the last train, she mostly feels tired and sore. She's suffered too much for this setup. She mainly notices mistakes in the beta, or strange perspective problems Hori was too late to fix. It's only on her second read-through that she realizes the only difference between Mamiko and Suzuki's experience and her own is that at the end, in the final dash, Mamiko is about to make it - and Suzuki reaches out for her hand, to pull her back.
04.09.2015
"Chiyo-chan," Kashima sniffles, and Chiyo knows that whatever is going on, it has to do with Hori-sempai.
She and Yuzuki sit down with Kashima and extract the story in fits and starts. It had started, apparently, when they were talking about Chiyo. Kashima had noted, apparently, to Hori-sempai, that lately Chiyo had been somewhat listless. "I wanted Hori-sempai to think I was cool," Kashima sniffles, the tip of her nose turning rosy in a way that strangely doesn't detract from her overall attractiveness. "So I said what I thought - that maybe it was because you were in love," Chiyo can feel her blush tingling through the roots of her hair and down to her ends, which is strange, because she knows for a fact that isn't how hair works, "and if that was the case, it would be nice if it worked out, you know?"
"And then," Kashima's gulping breaths begin to take on a strange, manic quality, causing Yuzuki's expression to become increasibly interested, "do you know what he replied?"
Apparently, Hori had replied that Chiyo finding a boyfriend would be troublesome. That it would be a problem for Nozaki, but more notably a problem for him. Kashima had said he'd looked grumpy, even distracted. That his face said that Chiyo finding a boyfriend was something he had never considered, but that now that the possibility had been brought up he was at once deeply concerned about it.
"Chiyo-chan, how could you!" Kashima whines, but it's clear that there's no heart in it.. "Where did this bond even come from? Why are you such good friends! Is it something about your height? Because you're both so tiny and adorable? Because if so, I too --"
"Kashima-kun," Chiyo interrupts, sternly, "It's comments like that that'll get you hated."
Kashima is too exhausted to argue, and simply lays her head on the desk and whimpers until Chiyo relents, rubbing her back and telling her that she and Hori are just friends, that she only has eyes for one very tall and thin-eyed and deeply stupid boy, none of which are traits that fit Hori, that Kashima and Hori have a strange and special relationship that no one could get between even if they wanted to. She resolves never to let anyone know she's seen Hori with his bangs down. Yuzuki thumps Kashima on the back much too hard, causing her to cough and clutch her chest, and notes that even when she coughs she's kind of out of tune. As far as Yuzuki is concerned, this is probably being helpful.
The incident apparently sticks with Hori, as well, because the next time they are working together in Nozaki's apartment, Hori leans over and whispers, "Hey, I know that this is probably pretty frustrating for you, but you aren't going to get fed up and leave, are you?" Chiyo gives him a questioning look, and he continues, "Kashima--"
"Ah, she told me!" Chiyo stares down at the page she's working on. Suzuki-kun appears to be being kidnapped by thugs in this issue - she has difficulty believing Ken-san approved this storyline, and is already mentally preparing herself for major corrections. "I mean, I don't think that's very likely but... would it really be a problem? Me getting a boyfriend."
"Of course it would be a problem!" the warmth with which Hori replies surprises Chiyo, as does the way in which he grabs her shoulders, meeting her gaze directly. "Nozaki would never stop complaining about having to find someone else to do the beta, and you know I'm not that good one-on-one with Mami... koshiba."
"Ah." Chiyo smiles, places a comforting hand on Hori's arm. "Well, you don't have to worry about my getting tired of it - I know not to expect anything, you know?" Hori smiles softly back at her, warmth spreading fondly across his expression. Neither of them notice Nozaki standing in the kitchen, watching with a look somewhere between contemplation and discontent.
04.29.2015
For the last several weeks they haven't been making any real progress, and it's the first time in a while that they're really pushing up on a deadline without a completed draft in hand. Nozaki, for his part, has been making a big show of his own suffering, which isn't unusual in and of itself, but when even Mikorin expresses concern to her, Chiyo knows that she has to do something.
"Nozaki-kun," she intones quietly, leaning over his shoulder to look at the empty pages in front of him, "could it be that you're hitting writer's block?" He turns and looks up at her (--his face is so close! Too close!!), sighs tiredly in a way that reminds her of Mayu, somehow. He nods, turning back to his work and rolling his shoulders back, stretching languidly.
"This doesn't usually happen to me, like I can usually come up with something, but --" he shrugs. "Nothing is coming to me."
Chiyo smiles, straightening in a way she hopes is natural. "Why don't you come and sit with us? You haven't touched your tea, and anyway, sometimes when I'm having trouble, I change location for a change of pace!" Nozaki looks back up at her, meets her smile easily and picks up his materials, joining her and Mikoshiba at the table.
"I suppose it's natural you're having trouble," Chiyo murmurs sympathetically as Nozaki heaves another long sigh into his tea. "I mean, you've just gotten through four chapters about holidays or major events of some kind, and Mamiko and Suzuki are on pretty even footing -- as someone who's rooting for them, it's a relief, but as an author, it must be a difficult period, huh?"
Mikoshiba nods understandingly. "Don't worry too much about it, Nozaki -- even I get kind of fatigued if I hit too many flags at once." Nozaki looks up, interested, and even Chiyo pays more attention.
"What do you do when that happens?"
Mikoshiba turns red, clearly embarrassed to be caught discussing gal games in front of Chiyo, but he continues, "I don't know... take a break for a while? If it's a game," (he says, as if his experience isn't entirely based on games and one ill-fated fake date with Seo) "I build my character's stats for a while? Have him study by himself, or play games, or something solitary that will lower his stress?" Nozaki nods vigorously.
"A chapter where Mamiko locks herself in her room for three weeks, only playing M*nHun --" when Chiyo glances over his shoulder, she can see a doodle of Suzuki standing over a disheveled Mamiko - the speech bubbles read, she notes with a disconcerted shudder, 'Mamiko, I'm so impressed that you felled the Hard Core Teostra in only twenty minutes!!' 'I leveled up in games and also in love!'
"I'm not sure that really counts as progression - or, anyway, did Mamiko play video games? I thought she was the outdoorsy type -- ah, Nozaki-kun, that isn't what I mean!" she clarifies, as Nozaki has begun doodling trees surrounding Mamiko's video game console.
"Sometimes after a long series of flags I'm just not feeling it anymore? Like, it's almost too much energy, so I put the whole thing to the side for a while? It can never hurt to just take a short break."
Chiyo sees Nozaki-kun move for his phone, reaches out and stops him, deadpanning, "You already know Ken-san is at the limit of his allowable extensions, so try not running away from reality."
"Ah, or sometimes I switch to another girl entirely for a while -- you know, if the scenario is different, the whole dating thing feels new again?"
This time Chiyo grabs Nozaki's arm right as he's about to start drawing, crying, "No! I don't want to read about such a despicable hero! That isn't the Suzuki-kun I want!! You're going to disappoint girls around the nation!"
04.29.2015
The time comes for her to leave for the station without much having been accomplished, ultimately. Chiyo is gratified to see that even though it's much too early to have to run for it, Nozaki still joins her in the entrance way and begins putting on his shoes. She supposes the practice of walking her to the station wasn't entirely for material's sake. Mikorin shoots her a look from the next room that somehow manages to convey all of I really want to go with you but I don't want to take this from you so I'm going to let myself get left behind to watch the house but just remember I wouldn't do this for just anyone, so you owe me later!! in a single glance, but she can feel her phone buzz in her pocket and she knows he's sent her the same message in email form as well, just for safekeeping.
A few minutes into their walk, Chiyo reassures Nozaki, "I'm sorry we didn't end up getting much accomplished today, but I'm sure you'll overcome it soon!" He smiles faintly at her, then looks up at the sky above them.
"Yeah, it's just frustrating, you know? Sometimes I think, if I only had more life experiences, this kind of thing would be easier." Suddenly, he looks back at her, asking offhand, "What about you? You and Hori-senpai seemed close earlier--" his comment cuts off abruptly when Chiyo, horrified, spins to face him, stopping dead in her tracks, essentially colliding with him.
"It's nothing like that! I mean, I like Hori-senpai, but I don't li-- I have someone else that I like, so it isn't like that at all!!"
"Ah, you said something like that before, didn't you - some clueless guy who ignored your confession and doesn't notice your feelings, huh?" Nozaki clicks his tongue in an annoyed way which conversely makes Chiyo annoyed herself - have some self-awareness!! "Honestly, what's so good about that guy, anyway?" She shakes her head and shrugs, trying to remind herself of the answer to that question.
"So," Nozaki-kun continues, interested in a way he only ever is when he's collecting new material, "Have you managed to convey your feelings properly?" when she shakes her head, too simultaneously humiliated and infuriated to reply, he sighs, "And you're okay with that? With no progress?"
"I don't necessarily think it's about progress or no progress, you know?" She smiles up at him, ingratiated by his interest. "I'm having fun spending time with him like this! Sure, I'd like for things to move forward, you know? But, well." She waves her hands, trying to clarify as Nozaki's expression becomes more and more mystified. "It's like, ummmm, how do I put this-- Ah!! It's like in shoujo manga, isn't it!" She shoves her hands in her pockets, looking up toward the sky. "Progression is good, but anticipation makes smaller things seem more exciting and important, and anyway, sometimes in romance it's nice to wait and think about what might come, you know?"
For a second Nozaki looks baffled, but then he smiles and nods, says to no-one in particular, "Sometimes you say really good things." A second later, he adds, "Still," and looks down again at her, expression as implacable as ever, "I'm glad you aren't interested in Hori-senpai."
Her heart skips, and then she hears him add, quietly, "I guess when I think about you getting a boyfriend, it feels kind of weird, and I feel kind of irritated?" and her heart stops entirely.
Nozaki shrugs, continuing, "I don't know, it feels a bit like I'd be left behind." And then, frustratingly, "Ah -- we're here!"
Chiyo's too shaken to do anything but pass through the turnstiles. She collapses into a seat when she enters the train. She can't shake the feeling that the next scenario for "Let's Fall In Love" is going to center on Ryuunosuke, Mamiko's childhood friend and Suzuki's some-time low-level rival, but she stares blankly at the waving signs hanging above her, ignores her phone buzzing with messages from Mikorin. Sometimes, she thinks blankly, waiting is okay - the anticipation makes smaller things seem more exciting and important, and it's nice to think about what's to come.
05.02.2015
"I talked to Ken-san about what you said yesterday, and he said that while it's certainly the case that drawn-up buildup makes smaller things seem more special, if there's never any payoff, after a certain point the readers will begin to feel unsatisfied." He turns to look at her, expression thoughtful. Their faces are close again - Chiyo thinks to herself that it's always surprising how long Nozaki-kun's eyelashes are. Expression unchanging, he continues, "To be honest, I've never had that much patience -- I can't tell you how many drafts I've turned in along the lines of 'and then we had some experiences that led to a new relationship milestone.'" He smiles thoughtfully, perhaps momentarily self-aware. "Though Ken-san has never accepted one of them."
Nozaki-kun is tall and handsome and manly-looking. That's the only thing that hasn't changed since the beginning. when they first met he seemed so distant and unattainable, strangely grown-up. Now it would be the easiest thing to close the distance between them, Chiyo thinks. The easiest and the hardest.
After a second he shrugs and moves to get up. "You're thirsty, right? I'll put on some tea."
She thinks, waiting is okay - the anticipation makes smaller things seem more exciting and important, and it's nice to think about what's to come. She thinks, if there's never any payoff, after a certain point the readers will begin to feel unsatisfied. She thinks, the easiest thing, and reaches out to grab his sleeve.
05.27.15
2. a sense of missing
3. a sense of loss
4. a sense of want
(you know the rest)
WORKSHOP
VER A; REGULAR NAMES
Anyway, it’s troublesome and it makes him worry, and as a general rule Kenma avoids both of those things - save, he supposes, Kuroo. It's been a non-issue up to this point because the only people who text him anyway are Kuroo and his mother and occasionally (always) Lev; it's rare for him to ride a train without Kuroo, his mother expects a slow response, and anyway it's better not to give Lev too much attention or he'll begin to raise his expectations. His other teammates know well enough that the fastest way to talk to him is in person, and they tend to keep their messages short and to the point and rarely expect them to turn into a conversation.
That's changed since he's started talking to Hinata. At first he thinks it's got nothing to do with him. That it's the speed and the volume and the energy and the tone of the texts. That something about Hinata can't be ignored. That he demands to be replied to.
Even though he’s the type of person who enjoys teasing his friends, Kuroo has a degree of emotional maturity that precludes picking at people’s legitimate sensitivities; he’ll smirk and he’ll tease but he’d never do anything to call attention to his friend in a way Kenma couldn’t stand. The difference, Kenma occasionally thinks with an eyeroll, between a pain and a bully, although he knows that’s a gross oversimplification, as well as probably unfair. At any rate, it’s probably because of that that his friend has traditionally been good about ignoring the buzz of a message coming from Kenma's bag, but lately the more that Kenma responds to the sound, fishes through his belongings and reads through the messages thoughtfully and sends replies promptly as if it's the most natural thing, the more he shifts away from embarrassment and awkwardness and toward the norm, Kuroo has readjusted as well. He’s taken to biting around a smile, tilting his gaze in a way Kenma knows he does specifically because he’s been told point-blank that it's obnoxious.
“That shorty from Karasuno has a lot to say for a Wednesday morning,” he drawls languidly one morning as Kenma’s phone begins vibrating almost immediately after he clicks the screen off from his last reply, before he can even manage to shove it back into his pocket. Kenma can hear his best friend’s grin even before he slips his gaze up impassively, shaking his hair back and out of his face.
“Shouyou’s talking about this standing race he and that first-year setter,” Kageyama-kun, he vaguely recalls, “have. Something about arriving in the gymnasium first.” He shrugs. Things like racing and competition seem like a lot of work to him, more work than he’d be interested in. He supposes, however, that Kageyama seems unexpectedly like that kind of type - even though at first glance he’d given off a kind of stoic, imperious aura, that hadn’t lasted past the first few interactions with the rest of Karasuno that Kenma’d observed. People like that, Kenma thinks, get too serious about things when other people attach weight to them, even things that probably don’t actually matter all that much. Kageyama is probably exactly the type to get caught up in someone like Hinata's pace.
“Ah, that genius, right? The one who serves it right to shorty.” Kuroo’s tone indicates a question, but his expression doesn’t change, settled stubbornly into a fond smile Kenma recognizes as one he makes when he figures he knows what’s really going on, but he’s not going to let on until you’re willing to tell him what’s up, because he’s such a kind person, really. “They’re racing, huh? What’s with that, is it some kind of weird training?” Kenma shrugs, turning up to fully meet his friend’s gaze.
“I don’t think it’s part of their menu or anything, and as far as I can tell there’s no benefit to winning. It’s just something they do.” With that, he slips his gaze back to his phone, finger dancing across the screen to compose his reply. “I guess Shouyou’s into it, though.”
Kuroo snorts. “I get the impression there isn’t much that doesn’t get that guy pumped up.”
Kenma knows by all accounts that he should sigh at that, really, because it’s all sort of pointless and silly, but somehow, inexplicably, he feels the corners of his mouth turning up ever-so slightly. “Even you can tell something like that, huh?” His friend laughs and shoves Kenma’s shoulder with his own, almost too gently, like you’d nudge a sleeping cat with your foot.
“What's with that 'even you,' huh? Some people don’t take your particular skillset to figure out, you know? I feel like anyone could tell that. When we introduce him to Lev, Lev’ll be able to tell that.” Kuroo yawns and rolls his shoulders back, settling further into his seat. “Speaking of our newest member, I could swear I heard him complaining about how unresponsive you are to texts - something you’re working on?” Kenma leans forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees, putting subtle distance between the two of them, feeling defensive.
“You know that type of guy. If you give him an inch he’ll take a mile. You let him play one round of a game, and next thing you know he’s saving over your files and telling you he’s a natural at it.” For example. Hypothetically. “Better not to let him think I'll respond too quickly." Or at all.
"You barely respond to me." Kenma shifts his shoulders, turning slightly to meet his best friend's teasing, expression neutral.
"Did you have something you needed right now?" This time Kuroo jostles his knee against Kenma's, less gentle than before.
"That's not the point and you know it." The borders of his sigh hint quietly at the laugh he's swallowed down. Kenma doesn’t have a reply, and Kuroo doesn’t particularly need one; they're comfortably quiet until almost the end of their ride to school. As always, ultimately it's Kuroo who breaks the silence, intoning, "Looking forward to their trip, then?" as Kenma's phone lights up again with another message. Kenma shrugs, staring at his still-uncomposed reply.
"I think he's excited? I mean, even when one of us brings it up, he mostly just talks about volleyball and the Skytree, to be honest..." His phone vibrates again in his hand, as if in agreement. Yeah, Hinata seems to be echoing from up in Miyagi prefecture. Tokyo Skytree is awesome, probably!!
"Not the shorty, Kenma." His friend's tone indicates that he thinks that for such a smart guy, Kenma can be surprisingly dense. The scenery outside melts into the neighborhood around Nekoma High, warning that their stop is next; they both stand automatically, without conferring, and Kuroo reaches up and grabs Kenma's bag from the rack above their heads, passes it quietly to him with a slight grin. Morning practice is early and they've missed the rush, so they're able to move to the train door without pushing. It opens, and Kenma feels the cool morning air on his face as Kuroo steps onto the platform, turning to face him. Kuro's not done with his thought, Kenma realizes suddenly, looking at the slant to his friend's expression, and wonders what more there is to say. "It's volleyball and it's that guy. Of course he's excited. I'm talking about you."
The sun is gentle on his face, surprising for summer in Tokyo. Kenma still feels warm at the question, which takes him off-guard in a way he isn’t used to. Is he excited? It seems impossible - he's rarely excited, which is why it's so puzzling to him that he can feel a faint heat spreading across his cheeks and the back of his neck at the question. He tries to conjure up the memory of what the most recent game release announcement he’d been excited about felt like, tries to root that feeling in this, but it's all wrong - nothing about the nervous, effervescent feeling of hearing new information about an upcoming release is echoed in the way talking about Karasuno coming to training camp settles deep into his belly, makes him smile at weird times.
Kuroo blinks blankly at him, apparently surprised to have taken him by surprise, and they stare at each other like idiots for a few seconds before he laughs out loud, jostling his shoulder affectionately against his friend’s.
“It’s fine if you haven’t figured it out yet, Kenma.”
Kenma bristles at the implication that he’s behind Kuroo on something, sliding smoothly away from the contact in a way that doesn’t outright reject it. “Would you cut that out? We’re going to be late if you keep messing around like that.”
“What, are you feeling fired up about practice this morning? That shorty get you all pumped?” Kuroo anticipates Kenma’s dodge and moves fluidly in time with it, reaching up to tousle his friend’s hair.
“Not particularly.” Kenma knows Kuroo well enough in turn to anticipate that, and lightly slaps his hand away.
“You want to race?”
“Stop being stupid.”
Kenma hopes that Kuroo will think the slight flush still painting his cheeks is from horsing around. His phone buzzes in his pocket again, and as they turn to begin their walk to practice, Kenma pulls it out to finally humor Hinata with a reply. He’s surprised to catch himself smiling before he even opens the message, a moment of horrible self-realization which instantly sinks his stomach with how stupid he feels about it. Still, the moment passes as quickly as it arrived, and he sends off a reply as he walks, listening to Kuro humming a popular video game jingle from a few paces ahead.
VER B; CONSISTENT KENMA POV NAMES
Anyway, it’s troublesome and it makes him worry, and as a general rule Kenma avoids both of those things - save, he supposes, Kuro. It's been a non-issue up to this point because the only people who text him anyway are Kuro and his mother and occasionally (always) Lev; it's rare for him to ride a train without Kuro, his mother expects a slow response, and anyway it's better not to give Lev too much attention or he'll begin to raise his expectations. His other teammates know well enough that the fastest way to talk to him is in person, and they tend to keep their messages short and to the point and rarely expect them to turn into a conversation.
That's changed since he's started talking to Shouyou. At first he thinks it's got nothing to do with him. That it's the speed and the volume and the energy and the tone of the texts. That something about Shouyou can't be ignored. That he demands to be replied to.
Even though he’s the type of person who enjoys teasing his friends, Kuro has a degree of emotional maturity that precludes picking at people’s legitimate sensitivities; he’ll smirk and he’ll tease but he’d never do anything to call attention to his friend in a way Kenma couldn’t stand. The difference, Kenma occasionally thinks with an eyeroll, between a pain and a bully, although he knows that’s a gross oversimplification, as well as probably unfair. At any rate, it’s probably because of that that his friend has traditionally been good about ignoring the buzz of a message coming from Kenma's bag, but lately the more that Kenma responds to the sound, fishes through his belongings and reads through the messages thoughtfully and sends replies promptly as if it's the most natural thing, the more he shifts away from embarrassment and awkwardness and toward the norm, Kuro has readjusted as well. He’s taken to biting around a smile, tilting his gaze in a way Kenma knows he does specifically because he’s been told point-blank that it's obnoxious.
“That shorty from Karasuno has a lot to say for a Wednesday morning,” he drawls languidly one morning as Kenma’s phone begins vibrating almost immediately after he clicks the screen off from his last reply, before he can even manage to shove it back into his pocket. Kenma can hear his best friend’s grin even before he slips his gaze up impassively, shaking his hair back and out of his face.
“Shouyou’s talking about this standing race he and that first-year setter,” Kageyama-kun, he vaguely recalls, “have. Something about arriving in the gymnasium first.” He shrugs. Things like racing and competition seem like a lot of work to him, more work than he’d be interested in. He supposes, however, that Kageyama-kun seems unexpectedly like that kind of type - even though at first glance he’d given off a kind of stoic, imperious aura, that hadn’t lasted past the first few interactions with the rest of Karasuno that Kenma’d observed. People like that, Kenma thinks, get too serious about things when other people attach weight to them, even things that probably don’t actually matter all that much. Kageyama-kun is probably exactly the type to get caught up in someone like Shouyou’s pace.
“Ah, that genius, right? The one who serves it right to shorty.” Kuro’s tone indicates a question, but his expression doesn’t change, settled stubbornly into a fond smile Kenma recognizes as one he makes when he figures he knows what’s really going on, but he’s not going to let on until you’re willing to tell him what’s up, because he’s such a kind person, really. “They’re racing, huh? What’s with that, is it some kind of weird training?” Kenma shrugs, turning up to fully meet his friend’s gaze.
“I don’t think it’s part of their menu or anything, and as far as I can tell there’s no benefit to winning. It’s just something they do.” With that, he slips his gaze back to his phone, finger dancing across the screen to compose his reply. “I guess Shouyou’s into it, though.”
Kuro snorts. “I get the impression there isn’t much that doesn’t get that guy pumped up.”
Kenma knows by all accounts that he should sigh at that, really, because it’s all sort of pointless and silly, but somehow, inexplicably, he feels the corners of his mouth turning up ever-so slightly. “Even you can tell something like that, huh?” His friend laughs and shoves Kenma’s shoulder with his own, almost too gently, like you’d nudge a sleeping cat with your foot.
“What's with that 'even you,' huh? Some people don’t take your particular skillset to figure out, you know? I feel like anyone could tell that. When we introduce him to Lev, Lev’ll be able to tell that.” Kuro yawns and rolls his shoulders back, settling further into his seat. “Speaking of our newest member, I could swear I heard him complaining about how unresponsive you are to texts - something you’re working on?” Kenma leans forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees, putting subtle distance between the two of them, feeling defensive.
“You know that type of guy. If you give him an inch he’ll take a mile. You let him play one round of a game, and next thing you know he’s saving over your files and telling you he’s a natural at it.” For example. Hypothetically. “Better not to let him think I'll respond too quickly." Or at all.
"You barely respond to me." Kenma shifts his shoulders, turning slightly to meet his best friend's teasing, expression neutral.
"Did you have something you needed right now?" This time Kuro jostles his knee against Kenma's, less gentle than before.
"That's not the point and you know it." The borders of his sigh hint quietly at the laugh he's swallowed down. Kenma doesn’t have a reply, and Kuro doesn’t particularly need one; they're comfortably quiet until almost the end of their ride to school. As always, ultimately it's Kuro who breaks the silence, intoning, "Looking forward to their trip, then?" as Kenma's phone lights up again with another message. Kenma shrugs, staring at his still-uncomposed reply.
"I think he's excited? I mean, even when one of us brings it up, he mostly just talks about volleyball and the Skytree, to be honest..." His phone vibrates again in his hand, as if in agreement. Yeah, Shouyou seems to be echoing from up in Miyagi prefecture. Tokyo Skytree is awesome, probably!!
"Not the shorty, Kenma." His friend's tone indicates that he thinks that for such a smart guy, Kenma can be surprisingly dense. The scenery outside melts into the neighborhood around Nekoma High, warning that their stop is next; they both stand automatically, without conferring, and Kuroo reaches up and grabs Kenma's bag from the rack above their heads, passes it quietly to him with a slight grin. Morning practice is early and they've missed the rush, so they're able to move to the train door without pushing. It opens, and Kenma feels the cool morning air on his face as Kuro steps onto the platform, turning to face him. Kuro's not done with his thought, Kenma realizes suddenly, looking at the slant to his friend's expression, and wonders what more there is to say. "It's volleyball and it's that guy. Of course he's excited. I'm talking about you."
The sun is gentle on his face, surprising for summer in Tokyo. Kenma still feels warm at the question, which takes him off-guard in a way he isn’t used to. Is he excited? It seems impossible - he's rarely excited, which is why it's so puzzling to him that he can feel a faint heat spreading across his cheeks and the back of his neck at the question. He tries to conjure up the memory of what the most recent game release announcement he’d been excited about felt like, tries to root that feeling in this, but it's all wrong - nothing about the nervous, effervescent feeling of hearing new information about an upcoming release is echoed in the way talking about Karasuno coming to training camp settles deep into his belly, makes him smile at weird times.
Kuro blinks blankly at him, apparently surprised to have taken him by surprise, and they stare at each other like idiots for a few seconds before he laughs out loud, jostling his shoulder affectionately against his friend’s.
“It’s fine if you haven’t figured it out yet, Kenma.”
Kenma bristles at the implication that he’s behind Kuro on something, sliding smoothly away from the contact in a way that doesn’t outright reject it. “Would you cut that out? We’re going to be late if you keep messing around like that.”
“What, are you feeling fired up about practice this morning? That shorty get you all pumped?” Kuro anticipates Kenma’s dodge and moves fluidly in time with it, reaching up to tousle his friend’s hair.
“Not particularly.” Kenma knows Kuro well enough in turn to anticipate that, and lightly slaps his hand away.
“You want to race?”
“Stop being stupid.”
Kenma hopes that Kuro will think the slight flush still painting his cheeks is from horsing around. His phone buzzes in his pocket again, and as they turn to begin their walk to practice, Kenma pulls it out to finally humor Shouyou with a reply. He’s surprised to catch himself smiling before he even opens the message, a moment of horrible self-realization which instantly sinks his stomach with how stupid he feels about it. Still, the moment passes as quickly as it arrived, and he sends off a reply as he walks, listening to Kuro humming a popular video game jingle from a few paces ahead.